


Aliit ori'shya tal'din

by TexasDreamer01



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mando'a, Mentioned Bant Eerin, Mentioned Garen Muln, Mentioned Quinlan Vos, Mission Fic, Obi-Wan Kenobi Gets a Hug, POV Obi-Wan Kenobi, Protective Clone Troopers, Protective Obi-Wan Kenobi, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 00:07:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20554946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TexasDreamer01/pseuds/TexasDreamer01
Summary: Reconnaissance missions are never easy. On a far-flung planet in the Outer Rim, Obi-Wan thinks, is not much better. His troops and friends, however, can make his work downright pleasant.





	Aliit ori'shya tal'din

**Author's Note:**

  * For [otherhawk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/otherhawk/gifts).

> _Aliit ori'shya tal'din_ \- "Family is more than blood." (Saying.)
> 
> The Mando'a in the work has both hover-text enabled and a glossary in the end notes; all Mando'a is sourced from [mandoa.org](http://mandoa.org/minimal/).

It starts off as a reconnaissance mission. Simple enough, if not particularly easy – nothing in this war has been _easy_, and it draws a muted scowl across Obi-Wan’s face.

But, simple. Simple he could do.

Situating himself in the dense underbrush peppered near the edge of a glen, Obi-Wan gave another cursory scan to his surroundings with both his eyes and the Force. Only the usual eclectic mix of wildlife and the seeping edges of the Dark Side that the war brought with it answered him, and so he tapped the comm unit in his ear. “Alright, everyone,” Obi-Wan called out through the comms, “Just like the drills. I’ll see you at the end of Phase Two. _Oya__!_”

He listened to the scattered repetition of _oya!_ rippling into his earpiece, interspersed with the additional _K'oyacyi_ and _O’r taap_ muttered by the older soldiers. It would take a while for the confirmation to enter the busy comms on the 501st’s battlefield, but he was confident that the recipient push of Anakin’s Force presence to his inquiring pull would more than suffice as an update for now.

They were initially without aerial support; nothing for it, the Third Systems Army spread thinner than pre-holo paper, and the 212th would have to make do with naught but a trailing 501st for aid. Rex and Anakin were making good time mopping up the Separatist cells on the opposite side of the planet, but on a place nearly as big as Naboo, it could still be hours between their arrival and a call for help.

Those were critical hours, and so Obi-Wan had summarily dismissed the 501st from his initial plans, content to leave them as back-up for if something – hopefully _not_ inevitably – went belly-up. They were needed on the other side of the planet, anyway, absorbed in a critical position that would make his and the 212th’s job easier. It was difficult to tell who was the foil to whom in this exercise of military strength. They couldn’t afford diverting so many troops to a single planet this far into the war, but their intelligence was scattered enough to warrant the Republic’s star team being sent to an ostensibly neglected planet not far from the industrial sector of the Outer Rim.

Brushing his fingers across the hilt of his saber in a bid for luck, Obi-Wan rose from his crouch, electing to take the long way around the shallow valley he had been directed to. His armor, beloved though it was, had been deemed too ostentatious and therefore a risk; he adjusted the dark cloak borrowed to him from Quinlan shortly after the meeting that decided upon this mission which splintered their forces into a loose clutch in the planet’s system, tossing the hood up with a deft flick of his fingers. Were it not for the heightened adrenaline that the solitude of his role in this engagement garnered him, the shadowed fall of the fabric would have been cosy.

As it were, it was yet another sensation to be pushed into deliberate ignorance, and Obi-Wan scaled the tree-speckled precipice with the cloak barely fluttering from his form. Small lizards and the odd bird peered at him in curiosity as he passed between them and the sparse greenery in an ostensibly random pattern. The Force ebbing around him showed no signs of higher-order sentient life – either organic or metallic – something that prickled the hair on the back of Obi-Wan's neck in unease.

The circumstances dictated that this section of the reconnaissance needed to be a single-man mission, the parameters of the data-seller’s security too narrow for even a squad to pass through without tripping several alarms. Obi-Wan paused, brushing sweat from his temple before it could drip into his eyes, and shook one sleeve up to check his chrono. Barely an hour had passed, but that should put Cody halfway through his own Phase One. It was likely to be busy on the commander’s end, so he scrolled through his contacts and connected with Waxer, instead.

“’_Lek, alor_?”

Obi-Wan listened for half a breath, cocking his head as he heard the muffled sounds of shuffling and the Force-aided whisper of hand signals passed between Waxer and the rest of Ghost Company. “Waxer,” He greeted him, “_Tion'solet?_”

A ripple in the Force, echoing discordantly the mundane communication he held with the trooper. His eyes fluttered, riding out the waves of information beheld in both streams. It was an easy thing to know the positive notes of the sitrep before Waxer conferred them to him, “Two-thirds of expected count.” A pause, tinged with amusement, “They seem distracted.”

“I’m sure Rex and Anakin will be pleased to know,” Obi-Wan hummed, lips tipping into a smile. A nudge in the direction of his old padawan confirmed as such, tangle of battle-fed emotions revealing the high of a well-earned victory, exchanged thought-quick with Waxer’s information. “Send my regards to Cody, will you?”

A huff was his answer, and more than enough to convince him that his own update was received. Obi-Wan tapped the comm off, and he obscured his chrono with a quick flick of his sleeve, resuming his pace to his destination. The Force was with him, a comforting tightness across the blades of his shoulders as he wove himself between the boulders and trees. Birds tittered quietly when they noticed him, more in tune with his Force-flickering presence than the sentient species he was accustomed to working with. They guided him, superficial snatches of thought serving as a confirmation to the poorly-trusted intelligence that the Clone Intelligence had provided them with.

He never liked these missions – at the very least, not during the war. Before, yes, an eloquent jumble of Force impressions from the Jedi Consulars briefing them which provided that subtle edge which made delicate negotiations less troublesome. Obi-Wan brushed aside a drooping fern, noting that the birds’ recollections were more numerous now. It felt a bit like treasure hunting, he mused, metal detector clicking away with dips and rises in frequency as one circled closer toward their goal. He let a soft note of gratitude drift toward the birds’ minds, smiling at the pleased chittering that he was answered with.

The door was well-hidden. Better hidden, in fact, than was indicated in the briefing. It was outside the norm for the Separatists, and indicated a more individual fellow with a penchant for anxiety. He settled in the niche twixt boulder and untended bush, an even exhale coaxing his mind to follow suit. Though all Jedi were taught the basics of using the Force to feel out mechanical items, and the inner machinery, some had a natural talent for it.

Such a talent was not Obi-Wan's, and it was only thorough practice that let his sense leak between the seams of the hidden door. There were ways of foiling Force-sensitives, and were simple if one knew what to implement. The fuzzy white noise filling his mind was difficult to parse – was it the usual jumping of electrons through wiring, the usual buzz of active electronics? Or was it something attuned to potential Force-sensitive visitors? Obi-Wan didn’t know, not immediately.

A beep from his earpiece skittered across his attention, jerking it away from his delicate tinkering of the door’s inner workings. Shuffling further into his hiding place, Obi-Wan tapped it twice; once to accept the call, once more to indicate radio silence on his end.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody greeted him, voice lowered in respect to his general’s position. It should be about the end of Cody’s first phase, and a quick check of the chrono confirmed this for Obi-Wan. “_Me'vaar ti gar?_”

“In the middle of knocking,” Obi-Wan huffed good-naturedly. The Force revealed to him his commander’s nod, in synchronicity with the acknowledging hum heard through the comms.

“ETA?”

He cocked his head, turning briefly back to the eddies surrounding the door, thinking upon his progress. “Less than fifteen.”

“I’ll call back in forty-five,” Cody reminded him as a sign-off, the click of a disconnected call in Obi-Wan’s ear.

It was a relatively comfortable amount of time, within the parameters of Obi-Wan's Phase Two. Anakin would have been better for the technical aspect of this branch of their plan, but his prowess on the field – and sheer, brute force chaos – was the better of Anakin’s proficiencies to balance the mission’s scope. They could afford the extra few minutes Obi-Wan needed to allot to himself for the fine trickery of electronic locks, provided Anakin’s proverbial, and misleading, storming of the gates was distracting enough to draw forces away from his former master.

Such a plan was something Anakin had agreed to with gusto, always willing to provide flashy back-up if it ensured some measure of Obi-Wan’s safety. Ahsoka, as the balancing leg of this enterprise, was coordinating ground troops with arriving aerial support to help cover any blind spots they may have missed. He was glad to have some old friends at his back, accompanying Ahsoka – there were fewer friends the longer this war ground on, lost to either the Force or the Sith. To have Bant leading the aerial strategization in the lull between her own duties to this sector of the Republic settled the ever-present unease Obi-Wan carried about the inherent flaws in intelligence-gathering. She had an eye for detail, and would guide Ahsoka into the finer nuances of its analysis, something Anakin had difficulty with due to his compulsion to solve the bigger picture first.

Hopefully, he thought, spying a route through the door’s circuitry and nebulous security codes, Anakin might absorb some of the Mon Calamari’s lessons by proxy.

* * *

The distant cacophony of victory vibrating through the Force drew a pleased uptick in Obi-Wan's mood. He had been correct in his estimation of time – the door took approximately six minutes longer than Anakin’s usual speed, but since it had marginally improved Obi-Wan's own best by nearly a minute and a half, he considered it a job well done.

His lips thinned out as he stalked the shadows of the twisting, barren corridors. There was just enough white noise from the copious amount of uninsulated technology lining the duracrete walls that a headache limned his thoughts. The Temple was, to use terminology borrowed from his padawans, “Jedi-proofed”. Walls bulked up with specialized insulators to maintain electrical resistance, lending a cocoon of tranquility to the inner sanctums of the Temple. The bunker he was forced to investigate was immensely distracting in comparison.

It made him press a cool finger to his temple in an effort to counteract the growing pressure in his head. He leaned into the ebullient mood of his nearby compatriots scattered across the planet, letting the positive notes dull the edges of his incipient migraine. It allowed him to shore up his mental walls, patching the cracks that this mission was creating, and hoped it would last him through the more difficult portion of this phase.

The structure of the bunker made him assume a forced, rather than voluntary, radio silence, and Obi-Wan counted on Cody and Bant to coordinate any impromptu plans in case they ran into hiccups. He checked his chrono: thirty-seven minutes until Cody’s check-in. There was nearly a kilometer’s worth of tunnels and rooms for him to work through, and his lips twisted into a moue of discontent at needing to rely upon their intelligence more than his trained senses with the Force.

_Nothing for it_. Obi-Wan breathed out a sigh, drawing up a mental recollection of what the bunker was suggested to look like. It was a simple thing to overlay it on his current perception of his surroundings, tangling his senses deeper into the Force to produce a mimicry of a hologram. Mapping out a route to scour the bunker for anything to confirm their intelligence coalesced itself between the shallow and steady breaths Obi-Wan paced himself through, images forming from his guesses of their presumptions, mixed with what he had observed already.

A few heartbeats later saw him with a nascent plan, the subtle use of the Force draining Obi-Wan only a little, long experience in such techniques granting him the stamina necessary for a swiftly-formed answer. His eyes fluttered open, having been drawn closed to aid his concentration, obscured as the movement was in the relative dark. Having the Force at his back in such an intricately-interacted manner bolstered his confidence in this haphazard plan of theirs, and it lent speed to his steps down the corridors.

Ideally, there were several data sticks and portable drives for him to abscond with – plans and financial records that would grant them insight into this particular flavour of weapons runner. Ordinarily they would scarcely bother expending such massive amounts of resources, especially with the droid war consuming so much of… everything, but their team of clone troopers had flagged this case in particular, too related to the minutiae of enemy movements.

Obi-Wan turned into a smaller hallway, running into a door that left him the impression of a service entrance. To what, he wasn’t sure, but the gentle compulsion to break the lock and press onward was slightly more insistent than usual. He grit his teeth against the white noise, leaning against the cool metal of the door to stave off the increased trickle of pressure under his scalp. He hoped that everyone else’s plans turned out superbly – he was going to look forward to a quiet and dark room, with naught but some pain killers and a pillow for company.

Pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth, he let the edges of his mental route blur, allowing him enough concentration to pick the lock with swift shoves of the Force. Some stressed heartbeats later, and the unkempt groan of an opening door was his reward. He slipped through, making sure to close – but not lock – the door behind him.

There was a faint impression from Anakin, carrying notes of Ahsoka’s own Force impression, and Obi-Wan let a tendril of thought meet the star-strong mind of his former padawan, reassurance twined with a nebulous half-thought borne from his memory of the wiring in the bunker a response to the man’s simple query of well-being. He let Anakin carry the brunt of the conversational load, mind buzzing with the rolling fog of pain from the electronics, quirking his lips at Ahsoka’s conveyed, cheerful greeting.

He let Anakin’s connection peter out, content to drag himself into the physical realities of his current situation. The room he had wandered, half-absently, into corresponded with the literal sketch he and Cody had been forwarded. For a moment Obi-Wan contemplated the possibility that there were many such rooms, identical or nearly so, within the bunker. Letting his fingers drift across his saber’s hilt, drawing upon the soothing steadiness of its Kyber crystal, pressure bleeding away as the Force reasserted itself in a sublime slinking across his senses.

It made the room waver, shifting between that which was visible to the eye and which was to the mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the layered vision; still, the Force had revealed to him something useful – and immediately so, as his bounty stood out clear as moonlight on a cloudless night. Collecting the stash was quick work, relaying the news even quicker, never far was his from Anakin’s reach.

Making his way out, Obi-Wan reoriented himself, aware that there were at least two more rooms to investigate.

The Force guided him, as stalwart as his faith in it was. Finding the next and closest room was easily done, leaving him trepidatious about the last. It was a prickling thought in the back of his mind, aware that his consecutive successes had increased the risk of catastrophic failure should he be discovered.

A sense of alarm blaring through the Force was, curiously, not coming from his own environment. Anakin’s emotions tinged the scene in a panicked orange, momentarily obscuring his sight as they rocketed across his mind. He stumbled, instinctively curling into a niche that hid him from easy view. Obi-Wan cringed at the combined, if unintentional, assault upon his senses, bracketed between Anakin’s belted-out mental shouting and the exposed wiring shoved against his side.

_Anakin_, he gasped out, latent headache blossoming furiously into a migraine that occupied the space behind his eyes. He didn’t have the presence of mind for anything more articulate than a roiling mess of answering emotions, but luckily for him, Anakin was well-versed in his migraine-induced communication. The shouting quieted in intensity, less so in speed – he was received the impression of a spoiled cover, the need to rendezvous with the troops post-haste.

Cycling through deep breaths, Obi-Wan felt the pain ebb away into something more manageable, pressing a weak thread of acknowledgment and that his task was unfinished back. There was a lull, as if Anakin’s attention were divided, and the sense to abandon his task anyway. Abject concern chased the pronouncement, convincing Obi-Wan that it was more than the typical worry for Anakin’s old master at stake.

They had been compromised, and Obi-Wan was in the belly of their base.

* * *

Throwing himself into the Force’s wisdom, Obi-Wan bolted through the halls, knowing that now was not the time for subtlety. The hallways were a blur from his Force-enhanced speed, ducking into turn after turn with hairpin twists, saber feeling glued to his hand. Though what he could gather was securely secreted away onto his person, he knew the game would be up if he was captured.

_So, best not to_, He concluded faintly, stretching out his senses as far as they could comfortably go in order to parse for any arriving threats.

It was only as he reached ostensible freedom, shoving through the last door, that Obi-Wan belated realized this might have been an elaborate trap. He eyed the blaster inches from his nose, sliding his gaze to the similarly-armed others surrounding him in a loose half-circle. Sentient organisms had a more unique trigger-pull, and the confident way they aimed at him belied a well-trained sensibility on their parts.

Obi-Wan sighed, slipping his saber into the hidden compartment of his sleeve, raising his hands warily. “Well,” He said, all gracious charm as he yanked on Anakin’s connection to his own mind, “I know when I’m beat.”

* * *

His earpiece’s audio was remotely overridden, allowing him to hear running commentary from a variety of others on the other end, and maintaining a live stream from his end. The amount of bragging at his bounty, he thought sourly, was rather uncouth no matter how insightful it was. Obi-Wan felt that he would need to slip a word to Hondo about this, lest the Weequay think anyone had placed a stake on his perpetual claim. The dubious friendship he shared with the man was sometimes more irritating than it was worth.

At the very least, the pirate’s attention was predictable and therefore useful to leverage when the Jedi needed a grey-moraled contact. These… these _ruffians_ were completely out of place on this planet. Honestly, Obi-Wan expected better of his impromptu jailers.

The travelling cell he was hauled into was a nice change of pace, however. It was nice to rest his legs, and catch an opportunity for a nap, despite the ongoing chattering in his ear. He dozed, only occasionally obliging to turn his head in whichever direction Cody or Bant wished in order to better record some of the easy conversation surrounding him. It allowed his mind to unspool thoughts in a relatively relaxed manner, teasing out the finer details of observations he had made earlier off the cuff.

Only after the light doze he had slipped into for what seemed roughly an hour, counted only by the rhythmic wobbling of his transportation and the flux of conversation in both ears, did ostensibly-inchoate reference points converge into a new conclusion. Obi-Wan resisted jerking awake, knowing all too well that the surreptitious attention on him was too alert by a hair, and curled his fingers around the manacles secured on his wrists.

It was_ too_ predictable. The bounty hunters, their conversation – even the way he had been so casually searched over, as if they were still wet behind the ears to their trade, and shoved into a container he could have escaped with his eyes closed had he not accepted the opportunity to rest before his inevitable escape. The Force was muddied with his realization, thoughts jumbling together in discordant array. He inhaled slowly, forcing a measure of calm onto himself, letting his training suggest the first course of action.

His mind ran to politics first, inevitable as the creeping presence of his latent migraine. Pooling so many resources at such short notice off into the Outer Rim was disadvantageous to the Republic. Sending the star Jedi team and their commanders, even more so. Obi-Wan stamped down the accompanying anxiety at leaving the Core unprotected, despite knowing intrinsically that they had planned for exactly such a vulnerability and rearranged the Third Systems Army accordingly. Spread thin, yes, but within manageable contact with both themselves and other Armies and Jedi.

Having Bant so close could only be a boon, an eye for tactics making her fine back-up for exactly this scenario. He exhaled, uncurling his fingers in a forcibly casual move. Quinlan wasn’t far away, and with Garen providing keen flying skills while they both handled minor busy work in the same sector, they could arrive quickly enough to be of aid. Four Jedi – Anakin and Ahsoka comparatively a breath away – skilled and hardened by the war, yes, they could salvage this situation. There would be no repeat of Geonosis.

It was up to him to get them the information they needed for a clean extraction. He roused himself in a manner convincing of the freshly-awoken, letting a hand cover his mouth in a yawn and tapping a quick code along his jaw to be picked up by his earpiece. _Ver'mircit, ulyc_.

The elided message was sure to be decoded by Cody, a new data point he was confident the commander could assimilate into whatever rescue mission they were planning. Two beats later, and he heard the man himself in his ear, “Acknowledged. Waxer will be on standby.”

Obi-Wan allowed himself a faint smile that Cody deemed this important enough to attend personally, cautious of the bounty hunter’s gazes flitting periodically toward him. “_Alor_.” Waxer greeted, not waiting for a response, “What have we got?”

Shuffling his manacles across his cloak-covered protective gear, Obi-Wan drew the attention of some surly-looking woman, “You wouldn’t happen to know where we’re going?” He asked her pleasantly, “You see, my padawan will be terribly upset if I miss another demonstration of his new speeder upgrades.”

He suffered the jab through the bars with good grace, despite the air whooshing out of him at the staff-end impacting his kidneys. It would bruise, but nothing more, despite the furious spitting of curses from his earpiece. Obi-Wan was glad that Quinlan had insisted on loaning his spare set of garb to him, knowing that the troopers closest to him would march him off to Medical after this. Still, he had gained nothing yet in terms of useful information, “That’s a pleasant way to treat a captive audience,” Obi-Wan quipped wryly, “You’ve come all this way for me, it would be in poor taste to not even know your names.”

The wary eye he received made him force back a smugger tone to his smile, keeping the congenial blandness that caught so many off-footed. He slumped further into his seated pose, peering up at the woman guilelessly. Despite the cat being let out of the bag about his status as a Jedi, Obi-Wan could only hope that the faint air of doddering interest – lent by the very real aches in his joints and weariness darkening the underside of his eyes – would be a convincing enough veil to the propaganda spread so liberally throughout the galaxy about his martial prowess. At least, he hoped, long enough to enact his own escape, arriving aid notwithstanding.

“Lara,” The woman finally responded, the lengthy pause that he knew was rife with indecision making the small victory even sweeter. Her lips twisted at the subtle scolding look some of her compatriots tossed her way.

Obi-Wan settled more into his impromptu guise, leaning his head against one of the bars, “Lara.” He smiled, eyes crinkling, “That’s a lovely name. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The snort in his ear he ignored, content to let Waxer have his amusement. Glancing toward the rest within easy view, he let curiosity wax across his features, “And all of you?” He requested, the epitome of polite consideration, watching their shoulders slowly descend from about their ears. They hesitated, prompting him to add on a subtle goad, “I’m sure I would enjoy your company all the better if I had something to reference – I would prefer to refrain from using ‘hey, you’. Always came across as a little rude.”

Lara smirked, something Obi-Wan assumed was from his statement bringing up a memory. A humorous one, if her expression was any guide. There was a complicated passing of signals between the members of this little vagrant troupe, and he settled back to watch the results of his first verbal strike unfold. Waxer was quiet in his ear; he knew that the man rarely saw this form of fighting from his general, and Obi-Wan was sure that he was listening raptly for this rare occasion. His smile tilted into fondness, _At least something good has come of this blasted ruin of a plan_.

“_Alor_.” Waxer interrupted abruptly, and Obi-Wan restrained a startled jerk, “_Al'verde_ en route, ETA one hour twenty.”

There was no practical way to acknowledge the news, so Obi-Wan covered his reaction by launching into a randomly-selected spiel, pretending this was yet another group of Initiates begging for a story. “I had the dubious pleasure one day, many years ago,” He began, “Of trying a blend of Devanian tea. Of course, the old woman who had rather more cornered me into her hospitality, had insisted that I try it. Had I known then that it was in fact an inherited – and quite strongly-smelling! – tea that was apparently fermented and aged for twenty years, I might have refused…”

* * *

Cody arrived with his usual aplomb, stern-voiced and unwavering with his blaster, “Move away from the Jedi.”

He couldn’t help but pout, watching as his new acquaintances scattered at the sight of a grizzled clone and- was that really the entire Ghost Company? Obi-Wan squinted, but couldn’t see everyone down the narrow path the bounty hunters had chosen. Tapping his earpiece, Obi-Wan sighed out an exasperated, “_Waxer_…_”_

“You know how _Kote_ is,” The man replied, and damn him if they hadn’t adopted Obi-Wan's own penchant for professionalism obscuring amusement. He grumbled, turning off his end with a short tap.

Obi-Wan didn’t need to read the typical body language of Cody’s _buy'ce_ to know the particular tone of his commander’s frown. “I didn’t get shot this time!” He protested, nodding in polite gratitude at the troopers that reached out to unlock his manacles and help him down, barely skipping a beat in his argument, “I think I’ve done rather well.”

Cody’s stare needed no words. Helpfully, though, a shiny nearby spoke up anyway, “But _ver'alor_ said they hit you!”

He sighed, knowing Cody and the other elder soldiers were echoing him. _Ah, youth_. Obi-Wan exchanged a rueful, if fond, smile with Cody, before he turned to the shiny, “It was nothing I couldn’t handle,” He soothed the _verd'ika_, “But if you’re amenable, I’m sure Commander Cody would appreciate an escort for me to Medical?”

The accompanying nod from Cody was all the incentive the trooper needed, eagerly springing to Obi-Wan’s side in the precise bodyguarding formation that he knew was drilled into all 212th especially for protecting him. He shot a long-suffering look at Boil, shaking his head at the man’s gleeful posture. His easy capitulation may have laid to rest his newest _verd'ika_’s worries, but Obi-Wan truly needed to speak with Cody about this belief that he was _always_ in trouble. That was rather pointedly Anakin’s job.

Tripping over a rock that had gone unnoticed in his preoccupation with making silent conversation with his closer compatriots wasn’t planned, but that it made the trooper so attentively at his side cluck over him was worth the minor embarrassment. Obi-Wan straightened with a smile, patting the hand that the young man had clasped around his elbow in an emphatic display of the same care Obi-Wan had learned was shared with all the men under his command. “Tell me, _verd'ika_,” He asked with a canted smile, laughing at the stuttered surprise to his slip into Mando’a, “I see your colours are still new – have you decided upon a name yet?”

A shy smile received to him in the Force – an adequate buffer to the helmets that the soldiers were all required to wear – made him squeeze the hand on his arm encouragingly, coaxing the reply out. Twisting in such a manner, however, reminded him sharply that a trip to their healers wouldn’t actually be amiss. For now, though, he ignored the flare up in his wrists, taking in the timid countenance of his companion. “Oh,” He said mildly, “You needn’t answer, if you wish.”

“_Bes'laar_.” The shiny blurted out. Obi-Wan beamed despite the mortification he could feel emanating from the young man, even as he followed up with a discomfited, “_Alor_."

Obi-Wan brought up his free hand to stroke thoughtfully at his beard, knowing but still relishing in the mental squirming the other was doing. He spied from his periphery amused troopers on one side, well aware of the mischief he was making. That only the Force betrayed the trooper’s nervousness made him swell with pride. _Yes, this one shall do well_. He decided to put the poor boy out of his misery, waiting upon his general’s verdict, “_Bes’laar_, eh? A fine name, and I’m sure you’ll grow well into it.”

Bes’laar preened, straightening up at his side. He resisted the urge to shake his head, knowing that the events on this planet warranted some pleasant news, “We’ll need to celebrate. Has anyone else chosen names today?”

“Yes, Master!”

The cheerful words occurred milliseconds before Obi-Wan registered both his padawan’s stark presence in the Force and the accompanying form barreling into him. Bes’laar squawked indignantly, nearly toppled over by his own padawan-cannon. He laughed, closing his arms around Anakin and hearing the excited laugh of Ahsoka next to them.

“We have so many new names today!” Ahsoka enthused, squeezing Bes’laar around the middle with her typical underestimated strength. She set the trooper down before he could truly gasp for air, though, so at least she hadn’t picked up_ all_ of Anakin’s bad habits. “The party’s going to be_ huge_.”

Obi-Wan tsked playfully, “And what did Captain Rex say about all that?”

It was Anakin who sighed, slipping easily into the resigned doldrums of the young. He let his padawan sneak in one more hug, shifting back to observe the almost comical look of defeat that it seemed Rex had finally mastered enacting. “He said we have to finish our after action reports,” Anakin reported glumly, “And that I have to sign off on all the new names.”

“It could be worse,” Obi-Wan helpfully suggested, “You could be doing the damage reports.”

Anakin and Ahsoka groaned in tandem. How they convinced the Chancellor that so many explosives were needed in their daily battles seemed to be a mystery held between the Naboo man and the never-ending stacks of data pads ferried onto his desk. That Obi-Wan, and not them, had to sign off on the requisition forms for the Third Systems Army – whenever he couldn’t get them pre-filtered through the lower ranks – made their synchronized dejected faces hilarious.

He smirked, offering his arm back to Bes’laar. The trooper took it warily, reassuming their previous positions. Good; he would learn to be wary whenever Obi-Wan was so gracious about seeing the various healers who decided to treat him as their favourite pincushion. “I believe you were escorting me to Medical, yes?”

“… Yes, _Alor_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oya - Many meanings: literally *Let's hunt!* and also *Stay alive!*, but also *Hoorah!*, *Go you!*, *Cheers!* Always positive and triumphant.  
K'oyacyi - 1. *Cheers!* 2. Can also mean: *Hang in there* or 3. *Come back safely.* Literally, a command; *Stay alive!*  
O’r taap - "In position" (military)  
’Lek, alor - "Yeah, boss"  
Tion'solet? - How many? How much?  
Me'vaar ti gar? - How are you? (Lit: what's new with you?) Can also be used to ask a soldier for a sitrep. If a Mando asks you this, they expect an answer; it's literal.. The response for *I'm fine thanks,* is *Naas.* (Literally - nothing. )  
Ver'mircit, ulyc - hostage, careful/carefully  
Al’verde – Commander  
buy'ce – helmet  
ver'alor – lieutenant  
verd'ika – private (rank) Can be used affectionately, often to a child; *little soldier* - context is critical.  
Bes'laar - music


End file.
